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<title>What Are You Doing Stop That by SeraphSalacity (GlimmerGuts)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211946">What Are You Doing Stop That</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlimmerGuts/pseuds/SeraphSalacity'>SeraphSalacity (GlimmerGuts)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bloodplay, Gutplay, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Original Character(s), Other, Smut, Suturing, Woundplay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:48:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlimmerGuts/pseuds/SeraphSalacity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>We horny for gettin our internal organs touched, boys</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Are You Doing Stop That</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Troist looks over the tools he's laid out before him in the dimly lit room; silk thread and a needle, rubbing alcohol, his knife, which has been sterilized, and his phone should this go south, all on top of a pristine white towel. He's in his bathroom, naked, leaning against the wall while sitting on the cool tile floor. Most of the room is white marble, which will either make cleaning up after this easier or so much harder.</p><p>"A can dae this," he mumbles to himself, "A've cut m'self open plenty o' times afore, this won't be that different."</p><p>He's had an itch, an ever growing desire to give in and really try this kink after only fantasizing about it for years. He wants to feel his innards, to play with his guts and rearrange them. Ideally someone else would be doing it to him, but finding someone he trusts who's down with that has yet to yield any results. Emboldened by alcohol, the redhead is no longer held back by his usual reasonings against it. No 'there should be someone around' or 'maybe a surgeon should be on hand.' His phone is ready to dial for an ambulance, though with living in an extensive castle in a rural area there's no telling how long it would take paramedics to get to him. He reasons that he will simply do this such that he won't need them. The cut won't even be that long, just big enough that he can get his hand in.</p><p>Sliding down so his abs are as relaxed and flat as he can manage, he takes the knife in his right hand, gently pressing the finely sharpened edge into his skin. Slowly, he pulls it along his gut, humming softly as he watches blood leak from the incision. Right away he's wanting to get his fingers in there, to play with the blood and smear it over the rest of him. Placing the knife at the start of the gash he repeats the motion, careful about how far down he goes. It hurts, stings and leaves behind a dull sear, but it's an enjoyable pain. Excitement is building in his groin as he makes the next cut, feeling the blade slicing through his muscles. He stops going deeper for a bit to finger the wound, his cold hand contrasting with the hot blood seeping out. He wets his fingers with it, then starts brushing along his trail of hair to his dick. Using the red liquid as a lubricant, he takes hold of his cock and strokes it, already semi hard from the thought of what he's doing. Breath steady and deep, he moves his hand slowly over his length, his blood allowing him to glide over it with ease. Whispering curses as he hardens, he coats his fingers with more, letting it drip onto the head and closes his eyes, feeling the rivulets trail over him. Down his dick and over his shaven balls, around his sides and back onto the floor, each trail of warm essence easily defined against his cool body. He's twitching for more, and with that he makes the last cut through the muscle wall, slipping his hand inside the incision as he goes.</p><p>Troist is intrigued by what he feels, not too different from what he's fantasized but more sensual than he could’ve thought, his knife clattering on the tile floor as his grip on it softens. Even his gentle, exploratory touches feel better than he'd imagined. Audible moans fall from his lips as he grows bolder, sliding his fingers in and around the folds of his guts, finding himself squirming under his own touch. It's slick, hot vitality oozing in around his wrist and mixing with the moisture inside of him, the feeling of his hand gliding over his intestines pulling more noises from him. He takes his free hand and dips his fingers in the blood pooling on his abs, raising them to his lips to suck the liquid off, the sharp metallic taste sending a wave of excitement through him. Wrapping his fingers around what feels like the large intestine, he begins to stroke it, his balls and cock twitching from the feeling, steady pulse throbbing within it on every beat. He wets his free hand again and reaches down to tease himself, coating the head of his hard dick with vitality that seeps into the folds of his foreskin. With a loose grip he strokes his length in time with his fondling of his guts, eyes fluttering closed as a loud and drawn out moan is torn from him. Pulling his hand down he fondles his balls while rubbing the base of his cock, the damp rivulets pulling at his skin as they dry and adding to the stimulation. </p><p>His attention is focused on the feeling of his hands and the essence coating his flesh, dripping inside of him and down his sides. Breathy sighs and moans escape his mouth as he moves to toy with whatever other organs he can reach, the smoothness of his small intestines being the next to catch his focus. He trails over it, following the winding path it takes through his body with his fingertips. Cursing under his breath, he feels his balls twitching, precum dripping and mixing with the blood on the tip of his cock. Glancing down, he doesn't see enough essence pooled beneath him to cause any worry. Though his reach is limited, he feels around for anything else he can find, noting how gratifying each touch is. It all feels sublime, from his entrails up to his stomach, and he can only imagine how much better it would be with someone else doing this to him. Each organ has its own sensation, some more sensitive and others more textured. After feeling what he can he settles back on his small intestines, wrapping his hand around part of it and squeezing gently. The action sends pulses of pleasure through him, each one building familiarly in his groin until he cries out in ecstasy. His grip on himself tightens, soft splats barely audible over his breathing as thick ropes of cum hit the tile floor, cock twitching with each shot of his seed.</p><p>Troist lays there, riding out his orgasm, trying not to move too much through it. He milks his dick for all it will give until he's squeezed the last drops out of it, then slumps back to catch his breath. Glancing below him again, he takes a moment to mull over stopping now or pushing further.</p><p>"That's nae that much," he murmurs, "A could get another load in."</p><p>Still mostly hard, he picks back up on stroking himself, grabbing a handful of his guts and squeezing it together. He's fully erect again in seconds, playing with his foreskin as his eyes roll back from his own fondling. He curls around the hand inside him, from his shoulders down to his toes, the intensity of his groping both extremely pleasurable and a little painful. Cursing and moaning, he brings his free hand up to the wound again then to his chest, feeling himself up and leaving bloody prints as he goes. He pinches and pulls on his right nipple, the attention to the sensitive bud causing his cock to twitch again. A half-lidded glance at his dick confirms that what he feels at the tip is more precum, a drop of the clear fluid gliding down his shift. Digging his fingers into his guts, he gets desperate for another orgasm, legs folded up and raised above him with his toes firmly curled into his feet. He’s panting, edging closer with every grasp of his organs, fervently playing with whatever is in reach. The pleasure builds until it snaps and he’s cumming again, the pulsing of his cock more intense than the last one. Semen shoots up and adds to the existing mess, some landing on him and mixing with the blood, the rest on the floor or the wall behind him. </p><p>After giving himself a moment to recoup, Troist finally pulls his hand from his body, replacing it with the towel to absorb as much blood as possible before trying to assess the wound and how he’s going to close it. He notices he’s a little lightheaded, but shrugs it off; nothing he can’t handle. It’s not as deep as he thought, his lack of fat and merely toned musculature looking as though he can stitch it like any other wound. Grabbing the bottle of alcohol he finds a relatively clean spot on the towel and wets it, dabbing the soaked area on the incision. He does this a few times, not wanting to risk any sort of infection, then threads the curved needle and starts closing the gap. Rather than doing individual stitches he sews himself as he would a thick fabric, keeping the loops tight and close together. It takes a few minutes, but when he’s done he’s confident it will hold. Looking around him he takes in the mess he’s made, one that’s going to take hours, if not days, to erase. He sighs and decides to leave it for later, despite knowing dried blood will only be harder to get out. Testing how much he can do after the blood loss, he stands, a little weak but still able to hold himself up, and goes to a cabinet to pull out a bandage wrap. Enough to absorb blood but not be restrictive, he tightens it around his waist, then drags himself off to his bed, the soft cushions effortlessly luring him to sleep.</p>
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